Love and My Sinking Hopes
by Laury the Latrator
Summary: The thoughts of one Anthony DiNozzo during that terrible conversation in Tel Aviv. How he realized in the course of 5 minutes that he loved Ziva David, and she would gladly murder him in an instant. Oneshot, Tiva. Set during Aliyah with actual dialogue.


Tel Aviv. Probably one of my least favorite cities on Earth. Now, that is. And of the many charming sights I visited, that courtyard easily beat out the 'Assembly Hall' as the biggest shithole I had the pleasure of being attacked in.

I sought out Ziva that afternoon. Why? I'm not even that sure. I think I wanted to see if we were okay. God was I naive.

All I know is that as soon as I came up behind her, my reflection clearly visible to her, she froze. Her eyes widened in surprise, staring at the image in the window, and narrowed the next second. She turned, the harsh lines of her face oddly refreshing after the endless line of bureaucrats who hate my guts. Of course, she hated my guts too, but the smoldering sexiness was a nice consolation.

In response to her unfaltering glare, I began my defense with that simple truth: "I had no choice."

"That's a lie." Was her measured, spiteful retort. I knew it wouldn't be easy trying to convince her of my innocence, but I had hoped for something solid to start off with.

"Why would I lie to you, Ziva?"

"To save your worthless ass." Was her a-little-less-restrained answer. By now her unwillingness to believe me, her partner and friend of three years, over her out of control liar of a boyfriend was beginning to tick me off.

"From who? Vance? Mossad?" _You_, I thought but couldn't bring myself to say. 'Cause honestly she could take me in a heartbeat, and the fire in her eyes and tension in her muscles said she might.

"You jeopardized your entire career, and for what?" Staring back at her (for some reason we were much closer than when this little conversation started), I realized she didn't know. She didn't get it, she seriously didn't get it.

Michael saw it, he'd constantly taunted me about her, about my feelings: _'You've come to chase her away from me...' 'Ziva prefers darker skin...' 'Ziva's very lucky to have a man like you in her life, like a... big brother...' 'They include you coming here late at night, maybe finding Ziva in an emotional state, you help her pick up the pieces?'_

Everything I'd done had been for her. As soon as I saw her address on that list, I rushed to her place. I knew as soon as Abby began filing the information through the proper channels the higher ups would question her, question her loyalty. Things would come up, like her relationship with Michael, and everything would be a matter of record. I needed her to explain, to tell me the truth. I needed to start fixing this, to set things straight, to gather the evidence to prove she would never have those ties with Tabal. I needed to help her, defend her, like no man in her life had ever done.

Because I love her.

"For you." Ziva's eyebrows furrowed in the slightest display of confusion. I moved on so we wouldn't dwell on that tiny yet unbelievably grand revelation. "He was playing you, Ziva."

"For some reason you felt it was your job to protect me?" I nodded.

"I did what I had to do."

"You killed him." She spat. My frustration grew once more at her stubbornness, her clear cut view of the incident. Did self-defense mean nothing to her? Did I?

"If I hadn't, you'd be having this conversation with him. But maybe that's the way you'd prefer it." Though phrased as a statement, it was obviously a question. Hey Zee, who'd you like to survive in a fight to the death, your hot Israeli beau or that annoying DiNozzo guy who sits across from you?

"Perhaps I would!" It stung. I think I'd have rather she just thrown a knife. I slinked closer to her, tired of the fury and hate simmering just below the surface, only hinted in each carefully selected word.

"Okay, why don't you just get this out." I murmured to her, my volume steadily increasing with my next proposition. "You wanna take a punch, take a swing, get it out of your system, go ahead, do it!" We locked gazes, staying completely still, our heavy breaths filling the small space between us. My eyes searched hers for any sort of understanding, forgiveness, compassion, love. I found only anger... and sadness.

"Be careful, Tony." Ziva told — no, intimidated. "Because much like Michael I only need one." I latched onto this, because the alternative was my friend, my Zee, had just threatened to shoot me. And this wasn't playful office banter.

"And that's what you're really angry about isn't it, that's what's bothering you. It's not that he's dead," A flash of pain went through her face, but in my hurt and malice induced haze I took satisfaction in breaking through that icy shield she always wore. "It's that your Mossad boyfriend got his ass kicked by a chump like me."

"You took advantage of him."

"He attacked me! What was I supposed—" Ziva kicked out at my leg, sending me down with an unseen punch to the chest. She leaned over me groaning on the ground, her knee digging into my thigh, left foot next to my abdomen, and pinning my free arm to the concrete. Looking up at her rage filled face I felt a thrill of fear.

"You saw a glass table, you pushed him back, you dropped him on it. He was impaled in the side by a shard of glass, bloody, gasping for air!"

"I guess you read my report."

"I memorized it!" She yelled, blinking back tears. She looked so... devastated. "You could have left it at that, you could have walked away, but no you let him up!" The cold of her sig pressed into the cold steeling over my heart. "You put four in his chest!" My tone softened but my determination did not.

"You weren't there."

"You could have put one in his leg!" She shouted, moving the gun to right above my knee.

"You. Weren't. There." I repeated more insistently.

"But I should have been!" Her grief stricken face and guilt riddled eyes told me all I'd dreaded.

"You loved him." Ziva, the Ziva who would never be mine, looked down on me as her ragged breathing slowed.

"I guess I'll never know." She stepped off me, none too delicately I might add, and walked to the door. I didn't move even after hearing the door close behind her. I just lay there, my own out of control breaths the only sound.

That and my sinking hopes.


End file.
